Sox architect not built for limelight
Come to Fenway and survey the landscape. The ballpark is a collage of actors, musicians, ballplayers, politicians, and hangers-on. There's Ben Affleck, Mitt Romney, Billy Bulger, John Lithgow, James Taylor, and Yaz.
Heck, even the president of Rwanda was there on Opening Day.
Naturally there are plenty of photo opportunities with Curt and Ortiz and Johnny, the heroes of the greatest comeback in baseball history. And yet, there is one notable absence.
Where's Theo?
Look closely. There he is, the 31-year-old architect of the Boston Red Sox, standing quietly in the back corner of the dugout. He is not on the field to receive his World Series ring, nor is his name ever mentioned during the entire 45-minute Opening Day ceremony.
Not once. Just the way Theo Epstein likes it.
"I forget who it was that taught me that it's a good idea if you are a GM to be out front when things aren't going well, and to disappear when things are going well," Epstein explained last night.
Theo received additional championship advice during an offseason chat with Patriots coach (and three-time Super Bowl winner) Bill Belichick.
"Bill told him to turn the page," said principal owner John Henry. "And he told him to turn it as quickly as possible."
It is a sound plan for a young executive who somehow managed to fulfill the dreams of generations of New England baseball fans (which, by the way, included the ardent desires of his own family). Theo could own this town if he wanted. He could be Tom Brady. Hell, he could be the smart version of Johnny Damon, if he would just (literally) let his hair down.
"He could be me," Damon concurred. "But it's not his personality. He's very business oriented."
It's no fun to be the GM of the Red Sox when Byung Hyun Kim is a bust, or the team is 10 games out in May. Epstein knows that better than anyone. He's smart enough to realize that some day, maybe soon, the heat will be on again at Fenway. A self-congratulatory front office grandstander will get skewered when that day comes. But a low-key, credit-deflecting, self-effacing decision-maker might just be afforded some slack.
It is almost laughable to consider the primary reservation Red Sox ownership had about hiring Epstein back in 2002 was that he might be too young for the job. No one blamed them; the kid was only 28 and boy wonders are notorious for succumbing to crash and burn. Yet here we are, three years into his tenure, and, as Henry joked, Theo might be the most mature one of them all.
"We had a long, long talk when it was apparent he might take the job," Henry said. "I brought up my serious concerns. We both were examining whether at 28 he should do this. I tried to bring up every negative I could think of."
The one that gave Epstein the most serious pause was the idea of allowing a passionate -- and, let's face it, occasionally irrational -- public into his life. He has worked extremely hard to remain in the back of the celebrity dugout, with the notable exception of an occasional charity appearance.
Think about it. How much do you really know about Theo? He lives within walking distance of the ballpark -- we think. We know he has a bright, attractive girlfriend, but we don't know her name, rank, or serial number. Favorite color? Let's say blue. Safe color, that blue. What kind of car does Theo drive? Who knows? Does he even have one? This is a guy, after all, who didn't get his license until a mere five years before he became the general manager of the Boston Red Sox.
"All I know is what I know," Epstein shrugged. "I like my privacy. The biggest adjustment in taking this job has been sacrificing some of it."
Theo's most recent foray into the public eye was a commercial for Dunkin' Donuts that he shot alongside Damon. Epstein agreed to participate with the stipulation his appearance fees would go to the Red Sox Foundation.
"It was funny," Damon said. "No matter what we were doing, he had his Palm Pilot right next to him the whole time. He was checking that thing every three minutes. I think it was the day we traded Kim."
Although Epstein was preoccupied, Damon said, he did show a flair for the camera.
"At one point, he said, `Do I have three minutes to take a break?' " Damon reported. "I was like, `Hey, do it man. That's more important than a commercial.' Then I said to him, `So hey, what's going on, anyway?' "
It takes an uncommon amount of maturity to pass on the number of enticing offers that came Epstein's way in the midst of the World Series euphoria. He was courted by almost every late-night television show and was offered a book contract that was worth more than most people's homes. He could be hawking everything from hamburgers to Hanes, but has declined almost everything.
There had to be one tempting offer that was difficult to say no to, wasn't there?
"Actually, Playboy wanted to do an interview with me," Esptein said. "I turned it down. My buddies in the office were saying, `You can't say no. What if they let you in the Playboy mansion?' So I told them, `OK, I'll do it if you bring me and my 10 buddies from the office to the Playboy mansion and let us have a party there.'
"My guys took off and ran with it. They arranged the whole thing without me really knowing that much about it. We were going to go during the winter meetings in Anaheim, but that's when everything hit for us in terms of free agency -- especially Pedro [Martinez] -- so we had to scrap it."
Next time. The Playboy mansion isn't going anywhere. Neither is Letterman, Giant Glass, Warner Books, or the countless other opportunities that are sitting there in the palm of the general manager's hand.
Where's Theo?
Surveying the landscape of Fenway. Only he doesn't even see Affleck, Romney, or the president of Rwanda.
He only sees a sea of ballplayers, who look like champions now, but could falter at any moment. Then, and only then, will the general manager step out from the dugout into public view.
In the meantime, the view from the shadows suits him just fine.
Jackie MacMullan is a Globe columnist. Her e-mail address is macmullan@globe.com.
